


you're an asshole, dead wife

by questionably_fortunate_bamboo



Series: jonsa countdown 2017 [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: American Gods AU, F/M, Jonsa Countdown, not my finest piece but eh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 09:08:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11414715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/questionably_fortunate_bamboo/pseuds/questionably_fortunate_bamboo
Summary: Tyrion Lannister gets into a bar fight with Jon Snow (a leprechaun) and steals one of his gold coins. That gold coin is the reason why Sansa Stark (a.k.a. Tyrion's Dead Wife) is now resurrected and driving down the highway like a fucking maniac.(written for day six of the jonsa countdown - reincarnation)





	you're an asshole, dead wife

**Author's Note:**

> I KNOW I KNOW, i know that resurrection and reincarnation are two different things, but i fucking LOVED american gods, so i wanted to add jon and sansa into that world in a playful kind of way.  
> (plus, i want to imagine jon snow with an irish accent)  
> enjoy :)

 

“Hey! Get your feet off the fucking dash, asshat!"

“Fucking hell,” Jon mutters, shifting his legs.

The old, stolen ice cream truck squeaks and rumbles as they drive along the highway. Dead Wife (also known as  _ Sansa,  _ apparently) squints at a road sign, then hangs a sharp left. His body slams against the window, and he thinks that if he doesn’t have a concussion by the time they arrive at their destination, he’ll be the luckiest bastard ever to live.

“Do you normally drive like your hair is on fire?” he says. She ignores him, instead scanning the horizon for some unknown determining factor in their travelling experience.

She’s not much of a talker, but when she decides to pick up a conversation, she’s about as gentle as an angry snake. Jon sees her taking a deep breath, and mentally curses.

“I could seriously rip your balls off right now,” she says. His legs cross in a millisecond.

“Aye, but you won’t.”

“Don’t place any bets.” Dead Wife sighs and rubs her forehead. 

It’s not like Jon’s been paying any attention to the way she looks, but he’s noticed the slight greyness that’s sunk into her skin, and the glassy haze over her eyes. He’s seen the way her bones stick out in awkward ways, like her flesh is melting away.

Which it actually is. She’s dead as fuck, and now she’s starting to look the part.

“Are we lost?” he asks, watching her growl at the road.

“I know where I’m going… I mean, I think I  _ feel  _ where we’re going…”

“Ooh, don’t tell me. Is it the power of  _ love?”  _ Jon feels like an asshole. He wishes he could tell Dead Wife that he’s not  _ really  _ this much of a dick, it’s just that he’s been having a fucking weird week and he’d like to know more about her.However, he thinks that might ruin the badass vibe he’s got going on- and she’s really not been as sweet as an angel either.

“I’m not sure if it’s the fucking power of love,” says Dead Wife. “I don’t really know what it is, but I know where Tyrion’s going.”

Jon tries not to sigh. Everything about Dead Wife is weird as hell. First, her husband gets arrested for stealing from a casino (which she was in on) and goes to jail. Then, she has a guilt affair with her best friend’s husband (some blonde bitch named Joffrey). When she finally breaks it off with him (for good reason, because that dickhead was using her), she’s killed in a car crash moments later. 

Jon’s had the pleasure of meeting her (ex?) husband. After a lovely bar fight, the fucker made off with one of his gold coins- which is now somehow sitting in Dead Wife’s rotting belly, the reason for her reanimation.

“Do you love him?” Jon asks, putting his feet back on the dash. She seems annoyed, but not wholly pissed off.

“What kind of a question is that?”

“One that needs an answer.”

She bites her lip and contemplates, then replies with a curt, “I dunno.” Her autumn red hair swirls in the wind, and Jon briefly wonders what she looked like when she was alive. He pictures a bright, summery woman with the confidence of a queen. 

“You’re really not good with conversation, are you?” he asks. She makes a  _ meh  _ sound in the back of her throat.

“Maybe it’s not the power of love, y’know. Maybe it’s just the power of your past. Some part of you connects your man with who you were. Doesn’t mean that he’s got any power over you, it just means that you know you’ll find some answers about all the shit you’ve gotten yourself into,” says Jon. That sounds like poetry compared to the things they’ve been shouting at each other.

She raises an eyebrow at him, and he shrugs. With a half smile and a playful roll of her eyes, she turns her attention back to the road.

“You know, on the rare occasions I don’t want to disembowel you, you sound at least halfway intelligent,” Sansa says. He grins with pride. 

“Ah, you’re an asshole, Dead Wife.”


End file.
